An extract from a brilliantly written article from the 5th August in the Telegraph by Sophia Money-Coutts
After Hannibal’s army crossed the Alps on elephants to take on the Romans, they were presumably quite tired. But they probably weren’t as exhausted as anyone who’s ever been on holiday via a British airport.
Discussing exactly which British airport is the worst has become a national sport, but for my money it’d be Stansted.
A few weeks ago, I walked through Stansted’s Duty Free area (whoever decided that we should all be forced to walk through Duty Free immediately after queuing for security should be poked in the eye with a giant Toblerone) and there stood a lady with bright pink lipstick handing out free shots of rum at 6.55 in the morning. And I am all for a drink every now and then, but rum before 7am is the thin end of the wedge.
My friends and I then queued for about an hour for a cup of coffee in Pret A Manger, then we walked another five miles or so to the gate where we queued for another hour before realising we were accidentally in the Speedy Boarding queue so we went to the back of the queue for the proles.
I did not have small children tugging Trunkis behind me in a lacklustre fashion but I can only imagine this makes the experience approximately 63 times more painful.
New for 2017: I would like the Government to implement a compulsory wheelie bag driving test for anyone who travels with one, in order that they learn to control it properly and do not smash your ankles.